


Medium Dirty Chai

by newdog14



Series: Cafe a la Billdip [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Conspiracy Theories, Conspiracy theorist Bill, Fluff, Hipster Bill, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, So many theories, so little evidence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6494398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newdog14/pseuds/newdog14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You spent most of the day making fun of me for not buying into your ridiculous conspiracy theories, and you’re constantly spewing this pretentious bullshit about staying organic and disavowing corporations, even though you fucking work for one of the biggest in the world. You’re a complete asshole in every sense of the word, everything you say is either crazy or contradictory, and don’t even get me started on the fucking texting in code bullshit. And now you wanna know if we can do this again sometime?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medium Dirty Chai

**Author's Note:**

> This was both the most fun and the most difficult thing I've ever written. Hope you all enjoy it.

Dipper sighed as his phone went off again.

_Hvv blf rm z urugvvm xfgrv!_

_Still can’t read that!_

_Oh come on. It’s super easy. Have you even tried cracking it?_

_Nope! And I’m never going to!_

_That hurts Pine Tree._

_Will you stop calling me that?_

_Mlkv! Zmw R’n mvevi tlrmt gl!_

Dipper groaned and tried to resist the urge to chuck his phone at the wall. Bill was quite possibly the most annoying person he’d ever met, and yet he had a date with the guy. He sighed and made his way into the living room, he had nothing to do but wait now.

“Seriously Dipper? You’re not going to dress up at all?” Mabel asked from the kitchen.

“No Mabel, I’m not. You know why?” Dipper glared at her, “Because I’m only going on this stupid date because you’re _forcing_ _me_ _to_!”

Mabel frowned at him, “Well you should at least comb your hair, it’s a mess. You can’t go out in public like that!”

“You know I was actually thinking about it, but now I’m not going to,” Dipper said. Mabel glared at him.

“You can’t stay mad at me forever.”

“Give me my laptop back and tell Bill I’m sick, and I’ll forgive you for meddling,” he said. Mabel stomped her foot in frustration and went to her room. Dipper refused to feel remorse.

He sighed as he checked the time again. He knew Bill would be here soon, but he’d never gotten an ETA. At least not in English, who knew what was written in Bill’s weird little code. He sighed and opened Candy Crush. He didn’t really like the game, but it made a good time killer.

It wasn’t long before he heard knocking, and he got up to get the door. At the same time there was a crash from Mabel’s room, and then burst out of her room covered in enough glitter that Dipper was certain something had fallen on her, because she hadn’t purposefully worn that much glitter since senior prom.

He shook his head as she made her way into the kitchen and tried to look like it was just coincidental that she was there. He did his best to ignore her antics as he opened the door.

Bill was grinning just as widely as he had been the first time Dipper met him, though he’d switched his Starbucks uniform for a black bow tie and a short sleeved button down that was a downright alarming shade of yellow. He also had a bouquet of daisies, which he promptly shoved in Dipper’s face.

“Er, thanks,” Dipper said as he took the flowers.

“You’re welcome!” Bill said, his smile somehow managing to get bigger, “I picked them from my friend Tad’s farm, so you don’t have to worry about pesticides or preservatives or violent mutagens.”

“That’s very considerate Bill,” Dipper said, “Mabel do we have a vase.”

He frowned as he turned to find her with her phone in hand, scrambling to make it appear as though she _hadn’t_ been taking pictures of them.

“Psh, yeah, we totally have a vase!” she said, turning to dig through their cabinets, “What kind of people would we be if we didn’t have a vase?”

“The normal kind,” Dipper said at the same time Bill said, “The lizard kind.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow at him, and Bill just shrugged.

“Ah hah!” Mabel triumphantly pulled out a vase from the top shelf, and Dipper set the flowers on the counter as she filled it with water.

“You guys use tap water?” Bill actually looked nervous, “I hope you don’t drink that stuff.”

“Is there something wrong with tap water?” Mabel seemed to absorbing Bill’s nerves, “Oh gosh, is Portland the next Flint Michigan?”

Dipper shot Bill a glare before turning back to Mabel, “No, Bill’s just being stupid. He probably thinks it’s got some kind of mind control in it, just ignore everything he says.”

“ _Actually_ Dipper it’s been mixed with Fluoride, which is an incredibly dangerous chemical that kills brain cells,” Bill said.

“Bill no, Fluoride makes you teeth whiter, and is completely harmless,” Dipper said.

Bill rolled his eyes, “Oh Dipper, that’s just what they _want_ you to think.”

Dipper sighed again, “Ok, we’re leaving now.”

He grabbed Bill by the arm and dragged him from the apartment. Bill took that as an invitation to hold his hand, and Dipper bit back a groan. The sooner this day was over the better.

 

XoXoXoXoX

 

Dipper had never been to an all organic café, and he had no idea what to expect from such a place. However even with no expectations of any kind, he was still shocked when they walked into the hole in the wall café.

There were no windows at all, and there were white Christmas lights lining the walls. There were plants _everywhere_ , though Dipper couldn’t fathom how they got enough light to grow. There were a few couches in one corner, and scattered tables with chairs that didn’t match throughout the rest of the room. There was an incense stick on the counter, though Dipper couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to smell like. There were also paintings hung around the room, though it was too dark to really appreciate them. Although as Dipper squinted at the one nearest to him, he started to wonder if the poor lighting was _meant_ to prevent them from being appreciated; it was a painting of a man being burned alive, and though he couldn’t identify him for certain, there was something disturbingly familiar about that ridiculous hair. There was soft music playing in the background, but Dipper didn’t recognize it at all.

“Heya Bill!”

Dipper looked back towards the two baristas. The one who’d spoken was a red haired woman, who was just as unnaturally cheery as Bill. The man next to her was covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings, and he looked to be the appropriate amount of miserable for someone working in food service. Though the giant eight ball on his forehead was pretty weird.

“Hey Pyronica!” Bill smiled at the woman, “Having a good day?”

“Absolutely!” she said, “Though Eight-Ball’s been kinda a downer since the whole _Kryptos_ thing. You know how it is.”

Bill nodded solemnly, “We’ve all been there at some point. Hopefully he’ll bounce back soon though, this place just isn’t the same.”

Pyronica nodded sadly, then her smile was back so fast Dipper felt like he’d gotten whiplash, “So the usual then?”

“Yeah, plus a Medium Dirty Chai for him,” Bill said, pulling out his wallet as Pyronica pushed buttons on a cash register that looked older than his great uncle Stan and Eight-Ball set to work on making their drinks.

Dipper moved to pull out his debit card, but Bill stopped him, “I got this.”

“You really don’t have to-” Dipper started, but Bill cut him off by pointing to the register.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure that register was made long before debit cards were even a thought,” Bill said.

“And good thing too,” Pyronica said, “Otherwise you know who could be using the records to spy on us all.”

Dipper couldn’t help but snort, “I highly doubt the government cares about the business of a tiny coffee shop in Portland.”

Both Pyronica and Bill burst out laughing, “Oh Pine Tree, you’re a riot!” Bill gasped out.

“‘The government’ he says,” Pyronica said, wiping tears from her eyes as she tried to regain her composure.

Dipper looked between the two of them, “Sorry, why is this funny?”

Pyronica burst into another fit of giggles, and Bill held up a finger as he caught his breath to answer.

“It’s _funny_ because the government is run by a bunch of corrupt politicians who only care about lining their wallets with as much cash as possible,” Bill said, “Half of might as well be plastic standees for all the work they do. They just stand up straight and smile while they read off of a teleprompter.”

“As it should be,” Pyronica chimed, finally getting her laughter under control, “Can you imagine what kind of chaos would be wrought if the country was run by real, _regular_ people? With actual _thoughts_ and _opinions_? It’d be a nightmare!”

“So you see Pine Tree, the idea that anyone would be afraid of _the_ _government_ of all things, it’s just laughable,” Bill said, “As if there are _actually_ agencies that spy on everyone in the country. That’s just what they want you to think.”

“Who the fuck is they then? Because if not the government I’m not really sure who the hell they could be,” Dipper said, “So who is it? Who’s actually watching our every move? The Illuminati? The Anunnaki?”

Pyronica and Bill burst out laughing all over again, and even Eight-Ball cracked a smile. Dipper glared at all three of them in turn.

“Christ Bill, where did you find this kid?” Pyronica asked, “The Illuminati? The _Anunnaki_? Next he’ll be telling us that Santa Clause and Canada are real too!”

“Canada _is_ real,” Dipper said, “I’ve _been_ there for fucks sake!”

“To Quebec, right?” Bill gasped out, and Dipper nodded in return. Though he didn’t see why that mattered.

“That’s not _really_ Canada,” Pyronica explained, “It’s just something _they_ decided to create so that no one would get suspicious about the giant landmass up there. That’s why the people there aren’t at all like the stereotypes of the mythical Canadians. Because they’re _actual_ people.”

“Just think about it for a second,” Bill said, “Canada’s supposed to be a first world country, but they have _never_ played a significant role in any major conflict, or made any major discoveries in any field. Every now and again you get musicians that claim to be from Canada, but it’s all part of a cover up for the fact that the country _doesn’t_ _exist_. That’s why no matter how many laws they break, they can’t get deported. Because there’s nowhere to deport them _to_. It’s also why Canadians are constantly being made fun of, and why whenever you want to fake a girlfriend you say she lives in Canada. Deep down, we all know it isn’t real, the only reason the cover up works at all is because people don’t want to believe that any organization could be powerful enough to create such a cover up.”

Dipper looked between the two of them, completely dumbfounded. Did they really believe Canada wasn’t a real country? They certainly _seemed_ serious about it, but it was still difficult to wrap his head around.

“So whatcha think? Pretty mind blowing, eh?” Pyronica asked with a wink and a perfect Canadian accent.

Dipper took a moment to gather himself, “I think you’re both completely insane.”

Eight-Ball placed two coffee cups on the counter and looked at Dipper very seriously, “If you’re just now figuring that out, you’re doomed.”

He didn’t elaborate any further, and Dipper was left to puzzle over what the meant while Bill handed him a coffee cup and then dragged him to a table in the corner.

“So just how concerned should I be about that comment?” Dipper asked.

Bill looked thoughtful for a moment, “Not very. At least not right now.”

Dipper wasn’t really reassured by that, but he didn’t feel the need to press the issue. Instead he looked suspiciously at his coffee, “So what exactly _is_ Dirty Chai?

“It’s a Chai Latte, exactly like what you were getting at Starbucks,” Bill said, “Well, not _exactly_ like it, since they use real, organic ingredients here instead of chemical water, but this is what Starbucks is attempting to imitate.”

Dipper couldn’t help but laugh, but when he took a sip he found that Bill was right, “I never realized ingredients would make such a big difference.”

“Of course they do!” Bill said cheerily, “If chemicals didn’t change the way things tasted it would be much easier to poison people!”

Dipper gaped at him, until he burst out laughing, “I’m kidding, jeez, everyone knows how to cover the taste of poison.”

“You’re completely insane,” Dipper said.

Bill gave him an amused smirk, “So you’ve said.”

“Well everything you say just gets crazier and crazier, so I felt the need to reiterate it,” Dipper said.

“They say crazy equals genius,” Bill said.

“Well when you say something genius I’ll be sure and let you know,” Dipper said.

“You wound me,” Bill said, giving him the perfect look of mock offense. Dipper couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’d say I was sorry, but I don’t like lying,” Dipper said.

“Not even to pretentious hipster douchebags?” Bill asked, a hint of a smile slipping onto his face.

“Not even to pretentious hipster douchebags,” Dipper said, rolling his eyes at Bill’s grin.

“So what _do_ you like to do then?” Bill asked.

Dipper shrugged, “I read a lot, and I’m studying forensics and film, because I want to have one of those supernatural hunter shows.”

“You mean the shows where they do everything they can to ensure they never see anything?” Bill asked.

Dipper laughed again, “Yeah, except I’d like to actually find stuff.”

“Oh, so _you_ can believe in the supernatural, but my _conspiracies_ are insane?” Everything about the question screamed sarcasm, and Dipper frowned at him.

“Well yeah, I mean there’s actual evidence for the supernatural existing,” Dipper said, “But you don’t have proof for any of your nonsense.”

“Well if we could prove it everyone would know about it,” Bill rolled his eyes, “Like with Project MKUltra. But really, one of the most important parts of creating a cover up is not leaving behind any real evidence. That’s why the CIA always gets caught, because they’re hilariously bad at removing evidence.”

“So you’ve got nothing,” Dipper said, smirking when Bill narrowed his eyes at him.

“We’ve got observations,” Bill said, “If you pay attention and keep your mind clear of chemicals you’d be able see it too. Just stop polluting your body.”

“You mean stop getting Starbucks and drinking tap water,” Dipper tried very hard not to let his amusement show. He wasn’t very successful.

“That’d certainly be a good start,” Bill said, “But there are a lot of other ways to get have your mind controlled.”

“I can’t believe I’m asking this, but how else can my mind be controlled?” Dipper shook his head in dismay. This was the most ridiculous conversation he’d even had, and considering he’d once had to explain to Mabel that dunking her pet hedgehog into a bucket of glitter was a _bad_ idea, that was really saying something.

“Well for starters there’s the music industry. All those top forty tunes that get stuck in your head? It’s because of subliminal messaging. And just about every boyband ever uses some kind of mind control on their fans. One Direction was one of the worst I’ve ever seen, especially considering how popular their music remained even after they split up,” Bill said, shuddering a bit, “Those were some dark times. Then there’s Netflix, which is just a black hole of manipulation.”

“Oh really? Do tell me why,” Dipper said. Bill didn’t seem to notice his sarcasm, instead lighting up and continuing his explanation with new found excitement.

“Well how else do you explain the phenomenon of binge watching?” Bill asked, “Perfectly responsible people will fall into a show and watch an entire season in one night, it’s like a rabbit hole! And let me tell you, it’s not the show that’s responsible for it, it’s the platform. It’s all in the coding, it ever so subtly suggests watching ‘just one more’. And it does this again and again, until it hardly needs to suggest hitting that next button. And while you’re all wrapped up in whatever inane thing your favorite characters are doing, it’s planting spyware into your computer and checking up on what sites you’ve been looking at. It looks through the files on your computer, then copies anything that looks interesting and sends it back to the corporation. Nothing is safe.”

 

“So you’re saying that Netflix is the NSA,” he deadpanned.

“If the NSA was actually capable of what it leads people to believe it is, then sure. Netflix is the NSA,” Bill said, an amused smirk on his face, “So I hope you haven’t binged watched anything recently. Or ever.”

“Recently? Just the first five seasons of X-Files,” Dipper said. Bill looked horrified.

“Get a new laptop,” Bill said, “Otherwise you’re doomed.”

“But I still have four more seasons and a movie to get through,” Dipper said, “You can’t really expect me to stop now.”

Bill frowned, “How can you place a TV show above your own safety and privacy? How could cheap entertainment be more important?”

“You’ve clearly never watched X-Files,” Dipper couldn’t keep the grin off his face at this point.

“Why would I want to watch a bunch of incompetent government agents bumble around trying to find aliens?” Bill asked.

Dipper took one last sip of his coffee, his “Why you need to watch the X-Files” speech was very long, and he was going to need as much energy as possible to get through it.

 

XoXoXoXoX

 

As they walked back to Dipper’s apartment, Bill couldn’t help but feel as though the day had gone remarkably well. Dipper was intelligent and ambitious, and the way he talked about his passions was intoxicating. Sure he was still terribly naïve and put entirely too much faith in the abilities of the government, but for once Bill wasn’t horribly disgusted with the willful ignorance.

He couldn’t deny that he was a little disappointed when they made it to Dipper’s door, he really didn’t want the day to end. Unfortunately for him the illusion of time was relentless, and all of humanity marched to her drum.

“I don’t know about you, but I really had fun today,” Bill said, “Think we could do this again sometime?”

For a moment Dipper looked surprised by the question, but then it faded into a poker face.

“You spent most of the day making fun of me for not buying into your ridiculous conspiracy theories, and you’re constantly spewing this pretentious bullshit about staying organic and disavowing corporations, even though you fucking work for one of the biggest in the world. You’re a complete asshole in every sense of the word, everything you say is either crazy or contradictory, and don’t even get me started on the fucking texting in code bullshit. And now you wanna know if we can do this again sometime?” Dipper asked, and Bill tried to keep his own face impassive. Did he really annoy Dipper so much?

The suddenly Dipper was smiling, “Of course I wanna do this again dumbass.”

Bill was dumbfounded, “You’re such a jerk.”

“Sorry,” Dipper said, before he kicked the front door, which resulted in a thud and some cursing from the other side, “But I thought I should make _Mabel_ regret eavesdropping on _private_ _conversations_!”

Bill laughed a bit, “How’d you know she was listening in?”

Dipper rolled his eyes, “Because she’s Mabel, and she’s nosey.”

“Dually noted,” Bill said, “But you did have fun then?”

Dipper smiled again, “Oh yeah, more than I’ve ever had on any other date. Also, you let me rant about X-Files for like an hour, most people stop me after about two minutes.”

“I can’t imagine how they live with themselves,” Bill said, and Dipper laughed.

“Well I don’t want to keep you out too late,” Dipper said, “So text me and we can make a plan for next time?”

“Sounds good,” Bill said, he almost turned to leave, but then remembered the most important thing he needed to do tonight, “Oh and one more thing!”

Dipper looked confused, but Bill didn’t give him the chance to ask questions. He closed the gap between them in two steps, then grabbed Dipper by the collar and pulled him in for a kiss. For a moment Dipper didn’t move, but then he got over his surprise and kissed back.

Bill would have happily stayed in that moment forever, but the mood was kind of ruined by squealing from the other side of the door. Dipper pulled back and sighed, but Bill just smiled at him.

“Next time,” he said, and Dipper smiled back.

“Next time.”


End file.
